


Dead End Detour (Wrong Turning Remix)

by hereticalvision



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-25
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereticalvision/pseuds/hereticalvision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith's in prison, Buffy's dead: the Watcher's Council has nothing to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead End Detour (Wrong Turning Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cornerofmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dead End](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/2780) by Cornerofmadness (D M Evans). 



Faith smoked the occasional cigarette these days. It was more or less required in prison and certainly helped when facing yet another cop, this one Irish. "This is bull," Faith said, stubbing the cigarette out. "If it's an interrogation where's my lawyer?"

The woman with the ludicrous blonde hair pulled out a tape recorder. "I'm Inspector Fionnula Hennessey from Interpol. Please state your name for the record." She nodded to the guards, who wandered out and left her there.

"I've never been to Ireland. I don't know why you're here," Faith said, slouching in the chair and kicking out her feet. This whole thing made no sense. Still, an hour or so out of her cell? She'd take it.

The Inspector didn't react. "I'm going to ask you questions, Faith, about the tenth of August 1997 and your actions in Dublin on that date."

Rolling her eyes, Faith said, "Unless you mean Dublin, Ohio you're shit out of luck. I've never been out of the country."

"We have a plane ticket and a passport that say otherwise."

Faith's lip curled. She hated being asked stupid questions. She hated being cornered. She hated all the things that happened in here that weren't her choice.

"Aren't you scared?" she asked, leaning forward.

"I beg your pardon?" said the Inspector. Something definitely flickered in her eyes; Faith grinned.

"I'm not handcuffed. You're not armed." Faith's grin grew more malicious by the moment. She wouldn't hurt this woman. She wouldn't do anything. She just wanted to be left the hell alone. She just wanted to see that acknowledgement that she still had some semblance of power.

The Inspector blinked rapidly; she obviously thought she was showing no fear, but Faith could see it. Having won her hollow victory, she snorted, flopping back into her chair. "All I got is time. You want to waste it, it's no skin off my ass. And you sure are wasting it. Are all the cops in Ireland dumb as you?"

"Maybe," the Inspector said. "We're pretty fast, though." Abruptly she lunged across the table, yanking Faith's hair to the side, smacking the ornate ring into the side of her throat so that Faith could feel a pricking sensation. It only took a moment then she sat back down.

Faith's eyes widened. She looked at the ring, saw the insignia.

Oh.

"Why are you here, Watcher?" Faith asked, rubbing her neck.

"Buffy Summers died," the woman replied softly.

 

***

 

Faith spent fourteen years trying to please everyone. Cleared out of her mother's house at fourteen so Momma could play house with Kenneth uninterrupted. Acted like Buffy, all sweetness and light when it made her feel like her skin was burning. Did what the Mayor asked because maybe he was evil but for sure he loved her. Eight months sleeping then waking to find she'd no place in the world.

And then… And then…

Making her choices and having Angel there, a real friend at last. A real connection.

"I had to sing Mandy," Angel said, and he made her smile when so little else could.

Faith didn't have a lot of trouble in prison. You don't when you have supernatural strength. You make it through the first few days where everyone's trying to work you out, figure what they can use you for. Fight, fuck or hit the fence, that's what her cellie Jane told her: Faith fought.

It wasn't awful different from her life on the outside anyway.

 

***

 

Aislinn's head itched under the blonde, blonde wig. She would rather have been anywhere but in Los Angeles, anywhere but in this cell with this girl who should have been broken by now but was instead still fierce, still ferocious, still Faith.

Aislinn McNamara was a Watcher. Problem was, these dayss there was no one to watch.

Buffy Summers was dead. Aislinn had seen the shattered porcelain wreck of a man Rupert Giles had become. He'd come to England to make his final report, and he'd made it entirely by rote: she defeated Glorificus, she stopped the world from ending. Another heroine dead on the concrete. Another day.

Aislinn and the rest of the Watchers world-round waited for the new Slayer.

They waited a long time.

Eventually they worked it out – Buffy's death had already happened. She was a dead end and Faith was the lone Slayer, the one-in-every-generation.

How unlucky for them that Faith was insane, incarcerated and a murderer.

Aislinn hadn't volunteered. She hadn't wanted to do this – even less after she'd met Faith. She was so young, so slender. She looked like a waif until you saw those dark eyes, filled with regret, conflicted. Faith looked like a woman who'd found her place in the world. Aislinn had trouble seeing her as a killer.

"B's dead?" she was saying now. She ran her fingers over her chest, her expression flickering between shock, pain, and some misplaced sense of self-satisfaction. "I guess I outlived her then," Faith said, a wistful smile curling her mouth. "Who'd a thunk?"

She looked at Aislinn, and Aislinn could see she understood. "How long do I have? It was poison, right?"

Aislinn looked down at the signet ring the Council had given her. She'd barely felt it activate when she'd pressed it against Faith's neck. Aislinn had half-hoped that the Council had lied to her, that the Victorian-looking flat-faced signet ring was just that - a simple antique ring. She'd told herself that all this was just a test to see how worthy she was to be a Watcher.

She'd known that wasn't true.

Aislinn bit her lip. "No new Slayer was called. That leaves only you."

"And I'm useless to you guys in here. Let me guess: they said it was the only way," Faith sneered. Her face blazed and Aislinn saw what she had not seen before – the passion, the fury in this girl that could lead her to do anything. Aislinn was suddenly afraid, as she had not been before, the reality of Faith's strength and power coming alive before her eyes.

Aislinn almost bolted out of the room but she forced herself to stay calm. "I really am sorry."

Faith was growing more threatening by the moment, and Aislinn held her breath waiting for her to scream for help, to expose her as a fraud. Not that it would do any good; there was no antidote for the poison.

Perhaps Faith would just beat her to death instead.

Faith sighed and sat back, the fury draining from her as quickly as it had come. "Everything inside is screaming that I should take you with me." Faith gave her a crooked smile. "But I'm supposed to a good guy now. I'm supposed to be atoning. If this is how it ends," Faith shrugged, "this is how it ends."

"You understand perfectly, Faith. I really wish there had been another way." Aislinn said.

Faith smirked. "Yeah. Funny how the Council's so against murder except when it suits them, right?" She leaned back in her chair, tipping it backwards, swinging on the rear two legs. She looked at Aislinn as though she were nothing, beneath contempt and Aislinn shuddered and turned to the door.

 

***

 

Faith wasn't sure how long "not long" might be. She went back to her cell after visiting hours and waited for sleep to take her.

She had strange dreams that night, dreams like those she'd had way back when she was first called. A monster, larger and more terrifying than any she'd faced. The sun blotted out over all of L.A. A woman with a rotted face. A beautiful black man who loved her. An army of Slayers, each of them wielding the power to destroy all the evils of the world.

It would never happen now.

When Faith woke, she wept.

 

***

 

"Someone's here to see you," the guard said the next day.

Faith figured that the blonde bitch had showed up to finish the job. She was more shocked to see Angel sitting there, on the other side of the glass.

He never looked happy, but there was a new depth to his sadness. Faith knew it wasn't possible for him to have aged but there was something infinitely old in his face today.

Faith picked up the telephone, knowing why he'd come before he said it.

"Buffy's dead," he said flatly.

"Yeah," Faith acknowledged. "I heard." She'd been so caught up in thinking about her own impending death that she hadn't really though about how B's death affected her. Faith had idolised her once, after all. Wanted to be her so bad she'd crawled right up inside her skin. Would have fucked Buffy herself given half a chance and maybe that would have been enough. But knives and boyfriends and anger all got in the way and Faith didn't think about her much these days except for maybe wishing they could've been real friends.

It wasn't Buffy she wanted to be like, not anymore.

Angel cleared his throat. "I know you and Buffy... I know it all went bad but I thought you'd want to know she's gone. She never got a chance to tell you she was glad you were getting a chance to redeem yourself," Angel said.

Faith wondered if that were true. "A Watcher was here," she said rather than dwelling on it. "She told me about Buffy. Said there was no new Slayer."

Pain radiated from Angel so strongly that Faith thought she could actually feel it like a human's body heat. "No. No one was called. It gave us hope for a while - we even looked in another dimension for her thinking she might still be alive." Angel smiled to himself, soft and a little broken. "We didn't find her."

"I'm sorry," Faith said softly.

Angel frowned as though catching up with what had gone before. "Wait – a Watcher was here?"

Faith forced herself to grin. "Yeah. Bitch tried to poison me."

"Faith!" Angel's eyes went wide and he dropped the phone, his hand going to the glass. In another moment he got up, whirling to call for the guard.

"Angel, no!" she cried, dragging his attention back to her. "It's all right."

Angel shook his head. "I can't just let you die, Faith."

Faith loved him in that moment, loved him fiercely because she knew that his desperation wasn't because he'd lost Buffy. It was because he'd miss _her_.

"I should have died when Buffy stabbed me on that rooftop," she said. "But I didn't."

"It doesn't have to happen this way, Faith," Angel pleaded, his knuckles turning white where they gripped the phone for dear life.

Faith looked at him. "I'm never getting out of here, Angel. Not for years, if ever. That's too long to let the demons have free rein." Faith laughed. "It wasn't that long ago I'd have been willing to help them. I was a bad choice."

"There's more to you than that," Angel said fiercely.

Faith sighed. "Last night I saw… I think it was the future. But it couldn't be, not if I die here. It was a pretty good future, Angel. Maybe it was some weird fever dream. Maybe it'll never happen and I'll die here with you." Angel made a hurt noise in his throat – Faith tried to smile. "Wouldn't be the worst way I could go out. But hell, maybe the Watcher fucked up the dose? I don't even know. I'm not going to fight it," Faith said, looking him in the eyes. "I'm going to remember what you said. Make it through the next minute."

Angel's fingers curled against the glass.

"Angel, do something for me." Faith pressed her hand to his, the thick glass between them.

Angel matched the position of her fingers exactly. "I'll try."

"Let me tell you what life was like before I was called?"

Angel smiled sadly. Faith wondered for a moment if he'd ever talked much about his human life. If even Buffy had thought to ask.

"Of course," Angel said as Faith had known he would.

So Faith talked, letting her history spill out of her, telling it all for the first time without polish or pretence. She didn't turn it into anecdotes, she didn't make it funny when it had been painful. She told the truth and kept talking, wondering if she'd be rendered unable to speak before she finished, wondering if she'd make it back to her cell, and wondering more than anything else which future would come.

~fin


End file.
